


now if we're talking body

by thir13enth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, complete with flayn being too smart for her age, this is a self-indulgent single parent au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23618083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: “Your dad and I had a sleepover last night. You know, like how you and your friends have sleepovers, sometimes? Your dad and I are good friends.”(or: When Flayn asks questions, Flayn gets answers.)
Relationships: Manuela Casagranda/Seteth
Comments: 16
Kudos: 68





	now if we're talking body

**Author's Note:**

> behold, the most self-indulgent fic you've seen in your time.

Manuela’s hand hesitates as she reaches into the pantry.

“Flayn…” she calls out as she steps back and peers at said girl, seated at the table in the other room across the kitchen. “Do you want syrup with your pancakes?”

Flayn only briefly looks up from her phone. “Yes, please!” she replies.

Manuela nods to herself. Right. She could have guessed — Flayn loves sweets and has never said no to any treat Manuela has offered her. Manuela decides not to guess how much syrup Flayn liked however, deciding instead to take the entire bottle over to the breakfast table.

“Thank you, Manuela,” Flayn says, tucking her phone into her jeans pocket. She immediately takes the syrup bottle and starts to pour it over the pancakes. Manuela watches her, taking the seat next to Flayn. Her eyes absentmindedly follow the dark amber trail Flayn paints over the pancakes.

Flayn cuts into the stack and takes a bite.

“How are the pancakes?” Manuela asks her, after a few swallows.

Flayn doesn’t hold back. “A little dense but they’re tasty,” she says.

Manuela blinks a few times, almost snapping back. No, no, not every criticism is an attack, she reminds herself. Why is she so on edge today? Flayn is just a ten-year-old for goddess’ sake. Manuela reaches behind her to massage her lower back, suddenly recognizing the slow ache there.

Flayn takes a sip of milk before turning to Manuela. “So, are you like my mom now?” Flayn asks.

Startled, Manuela’s eyes widen. “What— oh no, no, it’s not like that,” she stammers. She forces an easy smile. “I just decided to make breakfast for you today, that’s all.”

Flayn taps the top of her pancakes with the spokes of her fork. “Yeah, but you stayed over in Dad’s room last night, right?” she reasons, before adding softly, “And you’ve been here a lot.”

“Oh, well, no, no,” Manuela corrects, hearing the fluster in her own voice. She hopes she sounds convincing. “Your dad and I had a sleepover last night. You know, like how you and your friends have sleepovers, sometimes? Your dad and I are good friends.”

“Dad doesn’t let me go to sleepovers.” Flayn frowns. “They seem fun.”

“Ah,” Manuela amends. “Right.” Seteth is going to kill her for bringing up that topic.

Flayn doesn’t seem to care about complaining of her father’s strictness beyond this. She takes another bite of her pancakes. “Did _you_ have fun then?”

Manuela coughs. “Yeah,” she says.

“What’d you do?”

Goddess. This child is not going to let up. “Well,” she starts, quickly glancing in the direction of the hallway leading to the bedrooms.

Flayn meets her eyes when Manuela turns back to her, with a demanding and intense glare. “Did you have _sex_? That’s what adults do when they’re together, right?”

Wow, that is _incredibly_ precocious of Flayn to blatantly suggest such things. And after all the _effort_ they put in to keep the noise level down and be subtle about things…

“Uh, yes,” Manuela replies.

This is fine. She wants to be honest with Flayn, and Flayn is _certainly_ old enough to have these kinds of conversations. And well, if Seteth is mad at her for talking about very natural human phenomena… then so be it, he can be mad at her, and she can have a nice discussion with him about how kids should _definitely_ be talked to about sex before puberty.

“Hm,” Flayn says, with a shrug.

Manuela observes her for another second, thinking to herself. “Flayn,” she asks. “What do you know about sex?”

Flayn looks at her with lukewarm interest, shrugging again. She looks more interested in her pancakes — as dense as they are. “I don’t know,” she says, annoyed. “It’s something adults do.” She thinks for a moment. “In private,” she adds, as if clarifying.

“I can tell you about it if you want,” Manuela offers.

Flayn groans. “As long as it’s not like one of my father’s fables.”

Manuela’s eyebrow arches. “Your father’s fables? Your father doesn’t seem like the story type.”

“He’s not. He makes up awful ones and tries to teach me ‘life lessons’ through them.”

Amused, Manuela chuckles. Now _that_ absolutely seems like a Seteth thing to do. “Can you give me an example perhaps?”

“There was this one about a fox and a squirrel,” Flayn tells her, without a beat. “I don’t really remember but basically the fox was lazy and the squirrel was not, so in the winter time, the fox starved and the squirrel just hibernated or something.”

“Huh,” Manuela replies. “Your father _does_ have very indirect ways of communicating.” She reaches forward to smooth out a fold on Flayn’s collar. “But no worries, what I will be telling you is straightforward, direct, and honest.”

“Okay,” Flayn agrees, albeit with a tone of disbelief.

Manuela takes a breath. She was a teacher before — this wouldn’t be a problem at all, theoretically. Instead of musical notes, she’d talk about different kinds of sex, and instead of harmony, she’d talk about consent. Or something. That’s, at least, the idea.

“So, as you know, sex is something adults do for fun,” Manuela starts. Then for what feels like an eternity, she rambles on about touching, kissing, body parts, and permission. With each sentence, she checks Flayn’s expressions, but Flayn never seems perturbed at all. Honestly, Flayn looked quite unimpressed and as if —

“Yeah, I already know all of that,” Flayn interrupts suddenly.

“Ah—" Manuela stutters. “I see,” she says, more disappointed that Flayn didn't bother to stop her. “Well then, you are very knowledgeable. Who taught you all of this?”

“Dad told me,” she replies, pulling out her phone.

Manuela has no time to react. As if summoned, Seteth emerges around the corner of the hallway, his fingers at the collar of his tie as he adjusts it to make it comfortable around his neck. He briefly makes eye contact with Manuela, but very quickly turns his attention back to Flayn.

“What did I tell you about screen time in the morning, Flayn?” he scolds, briskly stepping over to the couch to pick up his briefcase, where it was left late last night.

Flayn makes a face, tucking away her phone.

Seteth seems to only now notice the plate in front of Flayn. His eyes flicker to meet Manuela’s for just a moment before he pulls them away again.

“You made pancakes?” he asks her.

“Y-yeah,” she replies. “I, uh, I used the mix in the pantry. Sorry, if I shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” he replies. “You… you didn’t have to make breakfast.”

“It’s alright. I felt like it. There’s enough if you want to take some.”

He blinks a few times, as if the concept of eating breakfast is completely foreign to him. “It’s okay,” he finally replies, a small smile on his lips. “Maybe another time.” He turns his attention back to Flayn, watching her finish up her food. “Come on,” he urges her. “We’re almost late.”

“ _Okay_ , Dad,” she says, annoyed, stuffing the last two forkfuls of breakfast into her mouth. She hops off the chair and scoops up her fish-themed backpack, quickly making her way to the door.

Seteth settles a hand over Flayn’s shoulder, ushering her on her way, and looks back at Manuela. His eyes flash, as if suddenly remember she’s there.He mumbles something to himself, his back straightening as he reaches behind him for a set of keys on the counter stand by the door. He steps over in her direction, bringing them over to her.

“You can…” he starts, but then stops himself. “You do whatever you need to,” he finally says, dropping two brass keys into her hand.

The keys are warm in her hands.

...

No one is surprised when Seteth and Flayn come back home from a day of work and school, and Manuela is found sitting on the sofa, reading a book off the coffee table. No one is surprised when Manuela stays for dinner and helps Flayn with her math homework later that night.

And no one is surprised when Seteth offers her another set of his shirt and sweatpants for her to wear that night, as well as at least half of his bed.

It’s a few minutes past midnight, at least a half hour since Manuela climbed into bed. She’s still awake, unable to fall asleep. Turning her body to the opposite side, she’s surprised to find Seteth also sleepless. He shifts his eyes from the ceiling to her, and this time when he meets her eyes, he doesn’t look away.

He smiles and nudges closer to her. His hand reaches to her face, fingertips grazing her cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks her.

“Just thinking,” she replies, lips pursed tight in thought. She takes his hand and cradles the palm of it against her cheek, then trails her fingers up and down his forearm.

Her touch seems to urge him to drag her closer, and he wraps his arm around her waist, pulling her into his chest. She can’t help but lean in, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and breathing him in. Seteth reserves all his affection for behind closed doors, and Manuela can’t begin to imagine why he only drops his boundaries when no one else is looking.

“Flayn was exceptionally curious this morning,” she starts.

“Oh yeah? About what?” She feels him press a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Just what I was doing here,” she replies. She decides to leave out the specifics about her being… “Mom.” Whatever arrangement Seteth and her had right now… it is nothing close to that. Before he says another word, she clarifies, “I told her we were having a sleepover and then she asked if I was having _fun_ …” Manuela feels a giggle come up through her chest, and she hears him softly chuckle too.

“Well, _are_ you?”

“Oh, please,” she chides, knocking her fist into his chest as if in protest. “You know the answer to _that_.” She hesitates for a moment, then admits, “But I maybe started to give her the sex talk — you know, since I thought she was old enough for it and I didn’t want to make this all seem suspicious! And I tried my best, but then at the end of all of that, she told me she already knew all this stuff and that you were the one that told her all about it!”

“Well, yeah,” he says. “Of course.”

“Oh,” she says. “I guess… I didn’t expect that from you.”

He furrows his eyebrows. “Why?”

“Mm… you’re just so… formal and… proper,” she says, thinking hard for the words. “And given how long it took me to bed _you_ —”

He clears his throat as she says this, and she snorts.

“You see what I mean?” she laughs. Her giggling subsides, and she adds, “I think that’s good you’ve talked to her about it already. Sex education wasn’t really a thing when we were growing up, you know. Or at least for me. I had to learn everything by experience.”

She looks up at him with a cheeky grin, just to check for any bashfulness in his expression. But there is none — only his intense eyes on her lips.

His eyes flicker back up to meet hers. “No proper sex education, huh?” he replies.

His arm brings her even closer to him, and his leg slips over hers. She feels him release more of his weight onto her. Reading his body language, she slides her knee up between his legs, stopping just before his hips. She feels him let a sigh out as she applies pressure against him.

“Nope,” she tells him softly, arching her back to press into him. “Not _one_ lesson.”

“Well then,” he hums. His lips ghost up her neck, and he kisses her ear. “Do you need me to teach you?”

**Author's Note:**

> no, i don’t know Manuela’s backstory. i don't know why she's not working anymore, and i don't know why she's still sensitive to criticism.  
> no, i don’t know how Manuela and Seteth met. i don't know how many times they met before this scene, and i don't know how these two are going to help each other grow over the next few years, but i know they will.  
> in fact, i don't know anything at all. one day, i hope when i come back to this universe, my keyboard will find me their story.
> 
> [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/napsbeforesleep) is where to catch me these days. find me spewing nonsense.


End file.
